


bad case (of loving you)

by GodModeSue



Category: Grey's Anatomy, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Derek is Not a Failwolf, Jealous Derek, M/M, Minor Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Minor Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, POV Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:37:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3343913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodModeSue/pseuds/GodModeSue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Grey’s Anatomy AU nobody asked for. Stiles is Meredith. Derek is Derek. Kate Argent is Addison.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So Stiles finds this awesome bar his first night in Seattle.<br/>He remembers bumping elbows with a handsome stranger, throwing darts, downing drink after drink after drink. Everything after that’s a little blurry, but then Stiles was more than a little drunk. Don’t judge, you Judgey McJudgerson. Stiles has just graduated med school. He’s starting a surgical residency at one of the best teaching hospitals in the country. Which is to say: He has earned this, goddammit.<br/>(And not everything’s blurry, you know. Stiles distinctly remembers having the sex. And the sex was really good. Top ten list epic good. Sex sex sex.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	bad case (of loving you)

So Stiles finds this awesome bar his first night in Seattle.

He remembers bumping elbows with a handsome stranger, throwing darts, downing drink after drink after drink. Everything after that’s a little blurry, but then Stiles was more than _a_ _little_  drunk. Don’t judge, you Judgey McJudgerson. Stiles has just graduated med school. He’s starting a surgical residency at one of the best teaching hospitals in the country. Which is to say: He has _earned_ this, goddammit.

(And not everything’s blurry, you know. Stiles distinctly remembers having _the sex_. And _the sex_  was really good. Top ten list epic good. Sex sex sex.)

* * *

 

He kicks his one-night stand out before breakfast, but not before he allows himself just _one_ teensy-tiny moment  of unadulterated smugness. The man is basically a greek god, except greek gods always seem to have tiny penises, which, ha. And Stiles tapped that, yes he did.

The guy –– his name is Derek –– is really cool about being booted, too. He gets it. It’s a one time deal, from which all participants benefitted, but now it’s over and they will _never meet again_. Even if Stiles was interested in a relationship, he doesn’t have time. He’s a surgical intern. His life is about to become hell. If hell allowed eighty-hour work weeks. He’s actually really looking forward to those. This is what he’s made for. He has surgery in his blood. And he’s brilliant, he thinks fast on his feet, he’s rough and tough and ready to ––

* * *

 

Stiles is pretty sure the literary term for this is peripeteia. The reversal. Like: _that moment when_  Oedipus learns he’s killed his father and fucked his mother.

This is basically the same thing.

The other interns are going to eat him alive.

If he isn’t fired.

If they don’t _eat him alive before they have a chance to fire him_.

* * *

 

So they can’t actually fire him. He knows because he’s checked the fraternization regs about a dozen times.

But.

They could probably make him really, really want to quit.

He takes back his earlier assessment. Regardless his hotness, Derek –– Dr. Hale –– is _the worst_  one-night stand ever.

* * *

 

“Why did you sleep with an attending?” is the first thing Lydia ever says directly to him, and he’d be thrilled that she’s finallyacknowledging his existence if he wasn’t having a _heart attack_.

Stiles jumps like a foot –– impressive, considering that he’s sitting –– and glances around wildly. But no one seems to have heard. “ _Keep your voice down_ ,” he hisses nonetheless, flapping his hands at the redhead.

“I just want an explanation,” she says, sliding into the chair opposite him. They’re on the less-frequented terrace, and the rest of the table is empty, thank god. Stiles usually eats lunch with Scott and Kira, but Kira’s in surgery and Scott doesn’t work Thursdays.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says. “Technically he wasn’t my boss at the time.”

“You did it by _accident_?” she says. The sheer incredulity in her voice is actually a little offensive, but just as he’s about to protest she says it again but with a side of _well of course_. Which might actually be more offensive. Like, is Stiles not devious enough to sleep with his boss on purpose? Stiles is totally that devious.

“You’re really not,” says Lydia. She looks a lot more relaxed now that she’s confirmed Stiles is in fact a bumbling idiot.

“Are you going to tell people?”

“Are you still sleeping with him?”

“No!” he says, flushing.

“Then I don’t need to.”

“And if I was?”

She fixes him with a glare that is scarier than flesh-eating bacteria, is scarier than Finstock’s biochemistry final. “I would feel obligated to take you down.”

Holy shit, he thinks. He believes her. And is a little turned on. Judging by the look she gives him a second later, she can tell. Of course she can.

* * *

 

Dr. Hale corners him in an elevator two days later. Stiles stares at the wall, which is a very inoffensive shade of neutral. Like his face. Because he, Stiles Stilinski, M.D., is totally unaffected by the presence of his boss, who is stuck in an elevator with him. And nobody else. They are alone in an elevator, oh my god, they’re _alone in an elevator_.

“Was I really that bad?” Hale wonders out loud. “I didn’t think so, but you haven’t spoken to me since.”

“I have too spoken to you,” Stiles grumps.

Hale raises one eyebrow. “There. Was that so hard?”

“I’m not doing anything different!”

“You should go on a date with me.”

“You’re my boss,” Stiles hisses.

“Not directly,” says Hale. “I’m more like your boss’s boss.” His face doesn’t change, except his eyebrows sort of twitch. Was that a joke? His eyebrows are _twitching_ , that bastard, does he think this is _funny_? Stiles is trying to build himself a serious career! And not on the foundation of having slept with his boss!

Apparently some of that comes out of his mouth, because Hale’s eyebrow twitch disappears. “I don’t want to hurt your career.”

“Thank you,” Stiles says stiffly.

“But you should go on a date with me.”

Gah. His _life_.

* * *

 

The thing is, Stiles would really like to go on a date with Derek. Hale. _Doctor_ Hale. But that’s such an astonishingly bad idea, he can’t believe Derek –– Hale –– would even suggest it. He’s an intern. Hale is an attending. That’s not a fairytale, that’s grounds for termination. Of Hale’s _job_. Though now all Stiles can think about is how Hale would make a really awesome Terminator. His eyebrows. And his jaw. And his body –– the body which Stiles knows _way too much about_ ––

“You’re pining,” Lydia says. For some reason she’s started eating lunch with Stiles and his friends. Not that Stiles is complaining. He’s in awe of Lydia. Just. Her brain. And her boobs. And her brain. And her boobs. He’s considering going straight for her.

But with Lydia comes baggage. Which is to say: Jackson. Also Erica, Isaac, and Boyd, though Stiles actually likes them. Most of the time. Jackson? Unadulterated ass. Frat boy, douchey ass.

He’s also having sex with Lydia on a regular basis, so Stiles might be a little biased. But Lydia is flawless and deserves better than this jerk, even if he has perfect, chiseled cheekbones.

“Stop pining,” says Lydia. “It’s not attractive. I’m getting secondhand embarrassment just looking at you.”

* * *

 

There’s a girl, a patient. Her name is Allison, and she’s sick. Of course she’s sick. She’s in a hospital. No, what Stiles means is –– she’s going to die. Stiles knows it, Hale knows it, Allison knows it. Scott knows it, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. Scott’s been spending a lot of time with Allison. And Stiles gets it. He gets the impulse, it’s powerful, he _knows_. You want to love these people even though they’re dying and maybe because of it.

Allison was an athlete, an archer. She has brain cancer now. Her father brought her here because Dr. Hale is the best neurosurgeon in the States, if not the world. She’s going to die anyway.

Stiles plays scrabble with her some afternoons.

“You should go out with Dr. Hale,” she says.

When his eyes are done bugging out of his head he asks her why.

“Because he likes you, and you like him. You have a good chemistry. You could probably fall in love. Why would you choose not to have that? You won’t be here forever. What the hell are you waiting for? Go out with him.”

Stiles hates to perpetuate unfair stereotypes. Cancer patients probably don’t have any sort of special insight into love or the meaning of life, at least not any more than other dying people. And their prime function in life is not to dispense that insight in the form of mystical advice to the non-dying. But.

It’s not bad advice.

* * *

 

He doesn’t exactly go on a date with Derek, but they do have sex. Multiple times. In multiple positions. It’s really good sex, okay, and –– ah, fuck it, he doesn’t have an excuse. He’s going to get fired and die and his tombstone will read, ‘It was really good sex, okay?’

“We’re going to hell,” he tells Derek after they do the dirty deed.

“Probably,” Derek agrees. He doesn’t sound like he means it.

Stiles heavy sighs. Then he lets his head drop to Derek’s chest, because Derek has a really nice chest and if Stiles is going to hell he’s damn well going to earn it.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued.


End file.
